SHORT STORY...,

[sistactry]

Re: SHORT STORY...,

we nuh paw shal nutten.. [img]/forums/images/graemlins/tongue.gif[/img]

juss caa u waan teef and go put up two storie wid bogus name., [img]/forums/images/graemlins/704555_dwl.gif[/img]

sarry fe u, [img]/forums/images/graemlins/tongue.gif[/img]

whappen tuff head nunya.., u gone feed de cows dem.., [img]/forums/images/graemlins/704555_dwl.gif[/img]

[Chrissy72]

Re: SHORT STORY...,

Originally posted by Ctry:
[qb] we nuh paw shal nutten.. [img]/forums/images/graemlins/tongue.gif[/img]

juss caa u waan teef and go put up two storie wid bogus name., [img]/forums/images/graemlins/704555_dwl.gif[/img]

sarry fe u, [img]/forums/images/graemlins/tongue.gif[/img]

[/qb]

shame anda yuh Ctry, yuh shudda know sey eff mi did whaa fi beet di sistim mi wudda juss chry an nuh ax nutten, an ope an pray no baddy nuh notice eh [img]/forums/images/graemlins/laugh.gif[/img]

[sistactry]

Re: SHORT STORY...,

so a sleep u tink we deh yaa a sleep.., [img]/forums/images/graemlins/704555_dwl.gif[/img]

[Chrissy72]

Re: SHORT STORY...,

Originally posted by Ctry:
[qb] so a sleep u tink we deh yaa a sleep.., [img]/forums/images/graemlins/704555_dwl.gif[/img] [/qb]

mi nuh know, but sometime we haffi tek some chance [img]/forums/images/graemlins/laugh.gif[/img]

[Chrissy72]

Re: SHORT STORY...,

A when a judgement day agen?

[yardy]

Re: SHORT STORY...,

Dem yah story yah lang een sah [img]/forums/images/graemlins/laugh.gif[/img]
Afta dem a noh story, dem yah a book [img]/forums/images/graemlins/704555_dwl.gif[/img] [img]/forums/images/graemlins/704555_dwl.gif[/img]
Dis a fi mi short story entry [img]/forums/images/graemlins/smile.gif[/img]

Football match
Rain fall no match [img]/forums/images/graemlins/704555_dwl.gif[/img] [img]/forums/images/graemlins/tongue.gif[/img]

[babydoll]

Re: SHORT STORY...,

Ms. Portmore, wow!!!!!! girl, u did good, real good, I like your story. Ok, I haven't read the others so hear I go.

[sistactry]

Re: SHORT STORY...,

Originally posted by Chrissy72:
[qb] A when a judgement day agen? [/qb]

Feb 22 is finals day..,

den Feb 23 - 28 is voting day..,

get u trigger finger ready enoh.., [img]/forums/images/graemlins/laugh.gif[/img]

[britisha]

Re: SHORT STORY...,

Originally posted by Ctry:
[qb]

Originally posted by Chrissy72:
[qb] A when a judgement day agen? [/qb]

Feb 22 is finals day..,

den Feb 23 - 28 is voting day..,

get u trigger finger ready enoh.., [img]/forums/images/graemlins/laugh.gif[/img] [/qb]

Mi naah vote hanless saltfish and stale bullah a gi way...a wha oono tek mi vote fah? [img]/forums/images/graemlins/704555_dwl.gif[/img] [img]/forums/images/graemlins/704555_dwl.gif[/img]

[sistactry]

Re: SHORT STORY...,

saltfish, [img]/forums/images/graemlins/blush.gif[/img]

but u chest high.., no me luv, we naa dem kinna luxuries deh.., saltfish, u know how much a lb fe saltfish, it all married now to pigtail.., [img]/forums/images/graemlins/blush.gif[/img]

so if u waan wan tin a bully beef, mek me know.., me we see if maybe me can work up a ting fe u..,

[msportmore]

Re: SHORT STORY...,

Originally posted by Ctry:
[qb] saltfish, [img]/forums/images/graemlins/blush.gif[/img]

but u chest high.., no me luv, we naa dem kinna luxuries deh.., saltfish, u know how much a lb fe saltfish, it all married now to pigtail.., [img]/forums/images/graemlins/blush.gif[/img]

so if u waan wan tin a bully beef, mek me know.., me we see if maybe me can work up a ting fe u.., [/qb]

Ctry weh fi yu story deh? Mi did love di wan wid yu an di donkey an di vibracious dawg eenuh? [img]/forums/images/graemlins/704555_dwl.gif[/img]

[sistactry]

Re: SHORT STORY...,

u and dat olee tuff foot big head Nunya esee, unu waan tek ppl me good good donkey fe joke, but is awrite, if me sekkle down good good dis weekend, a gween see what a can come up wid.., [img]/forums/images/graemlins/wink.gif[/img]

[championgal262]

Re: SHORT STORY...,

“budadomboomboom” gimmi da omman dem mi come here so fi lead dem gimmi di ooman dem mi come here so fi please dem gimmi di ooman dem gimmi de ooman dem a blear from the speakers as I axciously stand in line to pay my $20, as pay my money I hear a woman say to me walk through the metal detector miss buzzzz the buzzer goes off over here miss she wands me down it was my keys, “Princess” a voice shouts from the right “wappen muum?” Boy star mi come out fi lisen some tunes and jrink 2 juice. As I walk to the bar to get a drink “a who dis a look so sexy” a next voice a shout “Princess a long time mi no see you” a bear greetings mi a get. Now mi have mi drink and a walk to di dance floor. “swwwwww cough cough one bad draw a weed star gimme di weed good ganja weed weed a di healing a di nation” as I excuse my my way through the orange glow and cloud of smoke in healing to get a contact I see bear blunts wizlers funtoleaf a blaze, finaly I reach the dance floor and beer wining and skanking a gwan, the clothes versace, moschino, echo, RL, dkny, dada everybody look nice the table of food curry goat oxtail rice and peas vegetables, “you a walk and a talk bout you want mi hope you can hangle pengaleng” bear backshot position the ooman a start do, “woooooie watch how di gal dem agwan” the selector excitely says over the mike. “Position hold up you head and cock up you bottom” aahhhh the crowd cheers “smile gal child and mash up di place” bear hype dance & butterfly a start, body heat a start heat up the club everyone under dem liquor and weed. Cooloie riddim a blear through the speakers wash dance a break out, video man a zoom in on the fattest *** , camerea man na stop snap pictures, food a eat, you ****** the camera man turns around and to his delight a fight a break out “a my mon you fi hold your corner” zooming in closer the video man thinks of the money he will make off the fight, beer hinekine bottles flying through the air scratches scaring faces, the music stops and the lights come on the selector’s voice comes through the speakers “boy we have some people who na wan have fun but instead dem want fi war over pengaleng GET OUT” “dem no like we and we no like dem, dem a mi enemy mi an dem no friend” plays the selector “armsos gal a fuss gal a fight ova ya man” plays the selector and the crowd busts one piece a laughing the fighting girls are escorted out and the light dim once again and the music plays on “love and hate can never be friends, oh no here I come with love and not hated” bloop bloop bloop the crowd starts hitting the walls, tables, lighters light and the crowd sings along “I’ve got to get myself together” bloop bloop bloop again and the crow goes wild” more weed a smoke and once again there is a huge cloud of inviting smoke, I myself must pull out my Garcia y vega fill with yardas another trip to the bar “gal ya hotta dem dem” my song forget the drink to the dance floor. Beer low wine and slow wine, vibrating and *** pump ups the party nice “ afterhour at Ms. Pattys yard in de basement” $3.00 charge a few more songs the the lights start to flash and the club soon done and off to the after hour.

[Calvin]

Re: SHORT STORY...,

THE BEACH PARTY

It is warm in my car and I am protected from the chill of the wet London mornings. Insulated from the reality outside, comfortable in my air-conditioned isolation, absentmindedly listening to the morning show on the radio. I am running on auto-pilot. I am another anonymous commuter. A wage slave. A racing slave. A rat, silently doing what all the other rats do.

But sometimes, when the traffic lights glow red and the car stops moving, I turn off the stereo and observe. I look at the faces of the other rats in their grey city suits as they struggle into work, bleary eyed and expressionless, through the rain and sleet of my city's unforgiving autumn. These workers march without flags, without music, without a cause and without spirit. But it wasn't always like this. The past cannot be erased, and there will be a future also. And in a far off land I now think of as home, there is a present...

"Mirrar, mirrar, stop, stop!" Yami shouts excitedly at me. I brake, and the jeep squeals to a halt on the empty potholed road. To our right, as far as the eye can see, the Cuban mountains of the Sierra Maestra tower above us and around us, resplendent in their foliage of green and gold. Below us, to our left, lies a sandy beach, too perfect and too beautiful for mere words to describe.

We leave the car and negotiate the rocky descent to the blue of the water and the gentle crashing of the waves. As we reach sea level it becomes apparent that we are not alone. A village party of women and school kids, the grandchildren of the campesinos who four decades earlier sustained Fidel Castro and his wild band of outlaws in the mountains above, have beaten us to it. The villagers eye me as if I am a friendly ghost, a harmless apparition from another world, whose presence is to be tolerated but not to be engaged. I feel they could walk right through me if they so desired. Silently I lay my towel down on the fine white sand and watch the mothers as they help the smaller children with their schoolwork.

Yami runs into the clear sea, her black shoulder length hair streaming behind her. I watch as she splashes and plays and jokes with the campesinos, no trace of self-consciousness or snobbery in her actions, despite her being from the big city of Santiago. She waves to me. For a fleeting moment I love her with intensity so pure and good, I cannot find the strength to lift my hand to wave back.

A mulatto boy, a natural leader, is racing the other boys, proving again and again that he is different from them, that he is reaching manhood. A smaller boy is challenging his superiority, a year or so too young to understand the mulatto’s need for respect. The verbal conflict turns physical, playfully at first, then half seriously, then in deadly earnest. They roll about in the sand, the smaller boy refusing to submit to inevitable defeat, despite the heavy blows raining down upon him. His courage and heart is unquestionable, but it is not enough. The mulatto has the upper hand and with the ruthlessness that adolescence sometimes brings, forces his opponent's face into the hot sand. The vanquished boy cannot breath and he begins to thrash about in involuntary desire for life. The mothers try in vain to separate them, their cries growing louder and more hysterical.

I intervene, reluctantly, feeling that I am breaking a taboo by interfering in their world. I order the mulatto to release his captive but he refuses, adrenaline ruling his head. There is no time for a struggle, a human life is at stake. Besides, the boy is nearly as big as I am, and the outcome would be uncertain. Instead, I raise my fist high above his face and look the mulatto straight in the eye. He blinks and loosens his grip around his opponent’s neck, and all of a sudden he is just a boy again, manhood still tantalisingly out of reach. The younger child wriggles free and collapses into the scolding arms of his mother, still coughing up the dry white sand from his mouth and nose. The mulatto stands triumphantly over them, shaking the tiny grains from his body, brushing the dust of youth from off his shoulders...

In the distance a car horn sounds. I look up. The lights have changed to green and the autumn rain is sliding down the windscreen in big drops. I am a rat once again.